A Brandy Or Four
by Dictionary-Dominatrix
Summary: The affair hadn't started until much later during the Andi years, after the cold times of little sound and laughter in Toby's life... How CJ and Toby met, how it began, how they ended and a few glimpses in between.


"Brandy, please."

Over the smooth music and talk of the mob behind him in the bar, he'd heard the barkeep reply something incomprehensible.

"I'm sorry. I'd like a brandy. A bran-dy. You know…brandy the spirit?"

The man looked at the bottles above him and shook his head.

"Sorry man. I can't see it. Must be all out. Vodka or whiskey instead?"

"No, no. No, it's… it's fine. Actually, actually, it's not. How can you be out of brandy? I'd rather get drunk on water, than vodka. But it doesn't matter. No, really, it's fine. I'll just," and here he gestured vaguely at the bar, "I'll just be over here."

They'd met for the first time in this small, smoky bar, eight years ago. He'd pushed away for the counter that he had been leaning against, and moved towards the quieter section, where the piano was. He'd taken out a cigar and lit up, drawing a deep breath of his calming gas and then had exhaled deeply, ignoring the looks of disgust from the people around him. He'd been angry, disappointed at yet another loss. A brandy - or five - had been exactly what he'd needed that night.

Then he'd seen her.

He'd not heard her sing it since – she seemed to prefer 'The Jackal' on the campaign trail – but no matter what the song, he always found himself hypnotised by her voice. Each and every time it reminded him of that evening in that poky bar, where even the white-haired pianist looked at CJ with simple admiration.

Sitting on the edge of the piano in a resplendent dark evening gown, she was smiling with her whole body. From her blue-grey eyes to her long legs - even in the way those legs were crossed in the classic flirtatious pose. That was the second thing he'd noticed about her.

The echo her singing produced that night seemed to vibrate through him and be absorbed by his heart. The last, captivating note that rang in his head was the sound of disappointment. It was over.

She'd left the piano to the sound of applause and wolf whistles, almost skipping over to the bar, all the time ducking her head slightly at numerous compliments, in the way tall women often do instead of blushing.

She'd sat there next to him, quite upright on the bar stool, and he'd asked her politely if she'd like a drink. She'd laughed a little at this, saying that whenever she was bought a drink she ended up falling over, so she'd decline on the grounds that she was too tall to be falling over every night - but would it be alright if she sat with him for a while?

He'd smiled, answered 'Of course', and let her buy herself lemonade, or a shandy of some description – he couldn't remember exactly. They remained silent, occasionally gazing round the bar and then smiling at each other, but no words were exchanged.

It had gone against all of his chivalric tendencies to let CJ buy her own drink, but she had insisted, and he'd simply said "Okay," in his quiet way. He'd bought himself a drink instead, not making a fuss over the bar's lack of brandy but ordering whiskey instead.

He'd wanted to drink, to become absolutely drunk, and then go home once he knew Andi was asleep, so that he would have a valid reason for sleeping apart from her. His mind preoccupied, he'd sighed, and stared moodily at the table

He'd been smoking his cigar when he'd noticed a slight spluttering noise coming from his right.

He'd looked round to see her trying to hide her reaction to his smoke. He instantly apologised.

"Is this bothering you? Here, I can just…" And with that, he'd stubbed the end into the metal disk the barkeep had provided.

"No, no," She'd gasped, "Honestly, it's fine," She nodded "Fine." She'd coughed again, more violently this time, waving her free hand in the universal, 'go ahead' gesture.

"No, no, really, it's okay."

"Thanks. Sorry, I'm just… allergies, you know?" She'd smiled weakly at him, and taken a large gulp of water. He'd smiled back, apologizing with his eyes.

"Anyway, I'm CJ. CJ Cregg," She'd stuck her hand out for him to shake, leaning against the bar top.

"Uh, Toby Ziegler. Pleased to meet you."

They'd shaken hands and that was it.

They'd sat there, talking; her hands gesticulating wildly as she made her points. At first they'd not discussed politics, but eventually the topic arose. Toby had explained his situation - a candidate who never listened to him – and in return CJ had educated him about the benefits of female candidates, and EMILY's list, hitting him lightly when he snorted inelegantly at the acronym.

He'd suspected that she'd been drinking before going on stage, but he hadn't care. She'd amused him with the merits of tiny desert forks as opposed to their larger dinner counterparts, and she'd had difficulty balancing on the little bar stool.

It was eerie, really, the way they'd bonded so well after only two drinks and a Cole Porter song. So well, in fact, that the second time they'd met in the bar, he'd kissed her; his beard grazing her face, his arms around her waist, her lips pressed violently against his. She'd then whispered, "Good night," and walked away, her baby heels clicking against the stone of the pavement. He'd stared after her, the girl completely in control of her body, and he was confused.

The affair hadn't started till much later - during the Andi years, after the cold times of little sound and laughter in Toby's life. The past hadn't been kind to Toby – a mother dead, a father imprisoned, a brother in space - but somehow, talking to CJ was simply enough to keep him alive, to keep him from the abyss that threatened to swallow him whole. Whenever he'd needed it, her voice had always been at the other end of a telephone. Somehow, it was all he needed.

It was the sound of her voice, alternating between her anger at the brutality of the world; frustration at the ignorance of the government; joy with her friends and family; glee about her ideas – her words kept him strong.

And so their friendship grew into a relationship at last, and he'd asked her to join him on the campaign. She hadn't even checked out his story – she'd simply packed up and left, joining them in New Hampshire two days later.

That, of course, had been when the real affair started. There had been endless trips all over the country, away from the ones they wanted. Or so they believed. He'd often considered the fact that it was most likely the other way around - the lovers they didn't want, stuck faithfully at home, whilst the unfaithful were leading a life of debauchery. In truth, Toby had stopped caring about Andi – their marriage was as good as over, even if she was unable to see it. He was sick of the silences between them, sick of the slamming of doors, altogether too sick of the shadows in their apartment that refused to go away.

So when CJ murmured in his ear, "Come with me", he felt his body unable to resist that voice that blew warm air in his ear, and he followed her to her hotel room, where they stripped each other, and with only harsh moans and soft cries, they had sex for the first time.

It didn't turn into making love until much later.

After the affair began in earnest, he found himself falling more in love with her. The way she cried his name at night as they made love, the moans she gave as his hands moved in one direction, then another over her slender body. And the times in the night when she'd whimper "Toby" in her sleep, and pull him closer with a slight smile on her lips.

The means she was able to control the press with a few persuasive words, said in the tone of voice that would have convinced anyone that, no matter what had been reported about Jed Bartlet, he, of course, wasn't an elitist snob - simply well educated.

It had been the vocal skills that'd got her the job. It was these skills that had won the election for the Democrats, a little over ten days ago. Of course, the win was also due to simple intellect and revolutionary policy initiatives of the President Elect, but it wouldn't have happened without her - and Toby would never have stayed without her.

Still, the times, they were a-changing, as was said. The times, they also were a-dangerous. Scandal rocked Washington weekly, but no one fully recovered from the taint of it. A scandal could wreck the President's chances of achieving anything for a very long time.

Because that's what it was - a scandal not yet made public. Though CJ had helped him forget for a time he was still married, that's what he was - still married.

So they were meeting tonight, for the last time as lovers, in the bar they'd first met in as friends. He had to end it. He had to! He wouldn't risk the President's future for anyone. Not even CJ, who - quite possibly - was the love of his life. But hadn't he thought Andi was too? And yet here they were, filing for divorce, ending a nine year relationship. Nine years was a long time. But it had been inevitable - since he met CJ it was unavoidable.

_How could an affair - supposed to be dark, depressing and sordid - be something so colourful, so bright, so enthusiastic and energetic and just so incredibly revitalising?_ If anything, it was Toby and Andi's marriage that had haunting shadows, drowning them in what seemed to be permanent arguments, casting an air of tension that penetrated every room in their apartment. The fights over children were long gone. It would never happen now that he and Andi were splitting up, and he was about to break the heart (because, he thought she loved him like he loved her) of an old friend and new lover. He was, unsurprisingly, feeling incredibly bitter at the thought of it all.

The location was an ironic coincidence. It wasn't planned or anything, simply the closest bar to where they were now working was the place where they'd met, a little over eight years ago. He was shaking slightly as he ordered a second brandy. An eight month affair, an eight year attraction, to be over in minutes.

He wanted to take her back to his apartment, show her that he still loved her. He wanted to silence her with kisses but he knew that if he did, he'd never finish things between them. The little fact that Andi could return home at any time was incredibly frightening. She would hopefully never know about the affair, and never suspect. Next week, the divorce would be filed on the grounds of mutually irreconcilable differences, but it'd be at least a year before he and Andi were final. Separated by law. Legally single, as it were.

That wasn't entirely the point though. Working together by day and sleeping together by night never worked. It was a well known fact, and CJ would understand. It was taking its toll already – he was tired, and Sam had helpfully hinted that he appeared more argumentative and cantankerous than usual. He wasn't sure if Sam knew or not, but his deputy's comments simply scuttled him into a deeper gloom.

He sighed, collected his brandy and one of those girly drinks she liked and moved to a table at the back. Stretching and rubbing his neck he tried to relieve the pain currently developing in his head. He didn't notice CJ enter the bar until she'd dropped a quick kiss onto his forehead, filling his nostrils with her scent.

"Hey! Tobus."

"Hey, CJ. You alright?"

His hands continued to shake as he passed her the drink he'd bought.

"Thanks. Today, my friend, it has been a good day. Abbey and I went over to the White House today, y'know, to scope it out, see the décor and all…" she continued to speak, even after Toby lost interest and leaned back in her chair, relaxing.

Toby stretched his head back again, blocking out the sound of CJ's babbling from his ears, but occasionally nodded and 'hmm'ed along with her, giving the impression that he was listening to her but really thinking about what he had to do. CJ wasn't usually one for asinine chatter, except when she was emotional, but he didn't mind tonight. It meant the time could be put off.

The sound of music from the piano was all he could really hear, as well as the constant level of chatter from the regulars. An ordinary night. Wait - was that Cole Porter in the background, or was that just his imagination?

The bar was still smoky, and he coughed, distracting CJ from the joys of winning an election, and making her focus on him. They had to talk.

"You alright, Toby? You look a little, I don't know… peaky."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Well, not really, actually. A little tired. That's why I needed to talk to you."

"You're not ill, are you? Only Sam mentioned that you were more cantankerous than usual today."

As she spoke, she rolled the syllables on _cantankerous_ out, the way she always did with words she wasn't sure how to pronounce. This made Toby grin a little behind the cover of his beard. Not the time for laughing, but she was just too cute.

"And I thought - you know - that you might be ill or something. Or stressed? Or just tired? I've got to say, Toby - you look fairly bad."

"'M'not ill, CJ."

"You sure? You look horrific."

This made him smile. You could always trust CJ to boost your confidence.

"Thanks a lot, CJ."

"Any time, Tobus. Anyway, what did you want to talk about? Not that I don't want to see you, but y'know, you said it was important. We could've talked back at the soon to be former office you know – that place in which we both work?"

"No. We couldn't. No privacy there."

"And you thought you'd find some here?"

She grinned, raising an eyebrow at him, making Toby's insides flip. She was in a playful mood, delicately flirting, with her lilting voice and bright eyes. He didn't want to be responsible for removing that smile, but he knew he had to be harsh.

"This, uh, this won't be easy CJ. I don't how to say it, apart from… well, we need to end this."

She raised an eyebrow at him, obviously confused, possibly deliberately misunderstanding him. He returned her gaze, feeling worse by the minute, then stared down at his drink, watching the overhead lights reflect in the amber liquid.

"End what, Toby? Going back to work already?"

"End us, CJ! End us! End our…" He waved his hands between them, glancing around to check nobody could hear them, and softened his voice. "Our relationship. End our... us."

Now it was her turn to stare moodily at her drink, glancing up at Toby, looking for confirmation. He nodded slowly, once then twice, unsure of whether he should take her hand or try and hug her or to simply leave. He put his hand out and she flinched slightly, so he withdrew and stayed.

She was quiet for another moment or two, and then began to speak once more. Her voice this time had a new inflection in it – one of sorrow, of misery, of being broken.

"Remember when we met? Must be almost eight years ago. How did it go again? I was singing. And you were watching. I saw you watching, you know that? I sat down next to you. You were smoking - the smoke kept blowing in my face, you apologized and we shook hands and then we talked. We kissed and then we didn't and then we did seven years later and it's been eight months and… we're finishing? We didn't…"

"CJ," Toby interrupted gently, "You're babbling."

Her face seemed to change after his interruption. She straightened up in the chair, cleaning out her mind. Softly she wiped the undersides of her eyes with a napkin, and he looked away, feeling awkward, unused to leaving women in tears.

"CJ, I'm sorry, really. But you know us…"

She sighed, interrupting.

"Yes Toby, I know. I knew it would come to this. Maybe I just…"

Her voice trailed off here, but she wasn't upset - simply thinking. Toby shifted in his seat, gazing at his old lover. There was a burning feeling in the back of this throat, and in the corners of his eyes. He looked upwards, not understanding this feeling of wanting to cry. That really was new in the Ziegler world. He sighed heavily, his voice sounding choked with tears. He hurriedly took a large gulp of the alcohol on the table, and felt it burn away the blockage in his throat. He wanted to speak to her, to comfort, but he didn't know what to say.

He looked down at the table, and then back up to CJ, focusing on her nose. He couldn't look her directly in the eyes.

She pushed back her chair, and picked up her coat. She still seemed to be considering her options. Her face hardened and she nodded to herself, once.

She spoke to Toby in a strong voice now, with no threat of tears, simply business like.

"I'd like to take time off. Tell the Governor - I'm sorry, I should call him President Elect, now - I won't be in work tomorrow, but I'll phone into the office in the evening."

Trying to keep the warmth she felt in the bar with her, she moved, wrapping her coat tightly about her. She ducked her head, trying not to bump into anyone on the way out, as though she was embarrassed of herself, as she had done when Toby first met her. He watched her leave, sipping his drink, cursing himself silently for his stupidity. He was unable to stop the tears now, and he felt them pool in his eyes and threaten to spill over and reveal his true feelings for CJ.

But then, she turned, and walked back to hug Toby gently, and give him a soft kiss on the cheek.

"It's not your fault, Tobus," she murmured in his ear,"I understand. See you in a week. Goodbye, Toby."

Then she was gone, like a passing spirit. She left the bar through the main doors, forsaking her lime cordial, and ignoring the band on the stage. Toby was still standing where she left him, absorbing the smell of cigarettes and beer, his ears straining to hear the opening bars of the jazz band's next tune, lighting his cigar now that she'd left, broken hearted, leaving him to drink himself into a CJ-less nothingness.

"Brandy, please," he ordered.

The oblivion he entered, two hours and four brandies later, was beautiful in its nothingness.


End file.
